


Answers and Questions

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [6]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bisexual Veronica, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Betty, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Period-Typical Homophobia, Smoking, Underage Drinking, everyone's gay and a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 05:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15332586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: Both Veronica and Heather Chandler experience some confusing sexual feelings.





	1. Answers

_Dear diary_ ,

_Recently I discovered I many things about myself. Number one - I’m not straight._

Veronica paused and stared at what she’d just written, before taking her pen and dragging a line through the last two words.

 _I_ _’m_ ~~_not straight._~~ _questioning my sexuality. Obviously… not the best position to be in when you’re a member of the most powerful clique at Westerburg._

The newly written words on the page reminded her to look over her shoulder, checking for any prying eyes. She shouldn’t have felt relieved when she saw no one - no one came to this corner of the school, and she knew that. Hell, that’s why she was sitting on this dusty stairway that led down to the basement. She let out a quiet groan and went back to writing.

_I’d ask myself why I’d risk writing any of this while in the same building of a bunch of insecure children who’d leap at any opportunity to exploit a conspiracy about someone; and when you’re a Heather, all eyes are on you at all times. It’s near impossible to avoid._

_No worries, though, because I already have the answer. That answer being my next problem._

She glimpsed at her surroundings again, double checking that she was alone. Then her eyes returned to her diary.

_Heather Chandler._

 

* * *

 

Veronica’s stomach was churning with a disgusting mix of emotions as she pushed open the double doors of Westerburg. As an honourary Heather, she shouldn’t, and rarely did feel fear when walking down the hallways of her school. The worst she really faced were suggestive, slightly uncomfortable glances from frat boys. Sure, that wasn’t the best feeling in the world, but she knew how bad it was for those below her. She felt like she didn’t have a right to complain.

Today, though, was different.

She hardly noticed herself glide across the floor and to her locker. It was routine. She was on autopilot as she placed her folders into her locker, staring at nothing, her mind buzzing with thoughts. Thoughts that she couldn’t tell if she wanted to think about or not.

It didn’t matter, though, as a friendly voice sounded from beside her.

“Hi, Veronica!”

She whipped her head around and came face to face with Heather McNamara.

“Hi, Heather,” she replied, her voice dripping with exhaustion. Apparently it was noticeable, because Heather frowned.

“God, you sound tired.” She pouted. “Didn’t get much sleep last night?”

Veronica shook her head. It wasn’t a lie.

“Wanna go get some coffee? It might wake you up a little.”

She shot the blonde a grateful look. “From the coffee machine?”

“That’s the only the place I can think of.”

Veronica shrugged, before accepting the offer with a nod. After shutting her locker, she followed Heather down the the cafeteria. Luckily for them, it was empty, as it usually was in the morning.

She decided on the strongest black coffee that the cheap machine could offer, and tried to ignore the bitterness of the drink when it hit her taste buds. She knew what was coming. Coffee made from a cheap machine in a school cafeteria would never taste good.

“Jesus, you drink it straight away?” Heather commented, eyes growing round. Veronica arched a brow at her as she continued to pour caffeine into her mouth.

“Duh,” she said. “What do you do?”

“Wait until it’s cooled down. Doesn’t it burn your tongue?”

 _Honestly I want that at this point,_ she thought to herself.

“Doesn’t bother me,” is what she actually said.

Veronica blindly followed her friend out of the cafeteria and down more hallways. She hardly thought about where her feet were carrying her, that is until she looked at the label that was on the door she was about to push forward.

_Female bathroom._

Shit.

Veronica paused, knowing just who would be on the other side of the door. She hadn’t mentally prepared herself for their inevitable meeting. Not yet.

She considered just not going inside. Going to her first lesson half an hour early. Stalling seeing her for half a day more. Yet, she couldn’t think of a sound excuse to give to McNamara that wouldn’t make her appear odd in any way.

_Guess I’m facing Satan’s wrath._

She held her breath as she stepped into the bathroom. She could feel her gut twist and attempt to pull her in the opposite direction, but it was powerless.

Sure enough, both Heather Chandler and Heather Duke were waiting on the other side. Had she locked eyes with Chandler, she was sure that the knot forming in her stomach would squeeze out bile up into her mouth. Thank God she was too busy looking in the mirror to bother looking her way.

“I found a Veronica,” Heather McNamara joked, returning to what Veronica could guess was her place in front of the mirror - in between Heather and Heather.

 _Lovely,_ Veronica thought. _The only seat left for me is next to the lipstick lesbian in denial._

She reluctantly leaned against the counter, as far away from Heather Chandler as she could without it looking suspicious in anyway. She found herself envying how Chandler had found a distraction good enough to create a good excuse to not even acknowledge her presence. She was busy with blending her dark grey eyeshadow while all Veronica could do was sip her coffee.

“Not talking much, Veronica?” Duke questioned from the other end of the bathroom.

“She didn’t get much sleep last night,” McNamara told her.

“God, what kept her awake?” Duke huffed. “Did she find a guy to bang, at last?”

Veronica scowled. “Haha, funny joke, Heather.”

Duke didn’t reply, though it was clear she was holding in her laughter.

Veronica was really starting to regret admitting that she was a virgin on that Friday night. She knew it would now be a running joke between the Heathers for the next few weeks.

 _I regret_ a lot _of things I did that night, actually._ She glimpsed at Heather Chandler. _I think._

Looking at the demon queen, her mind flashed back to their game of Never Have I Ever. It had started out as a typical game; just a bunch of invasive questions. Nothing out of the ordinary.

That all changed sometime after McNamara had taken Duke upstairs to vomit, leaving her and Chandler alone.

It was _that_ that had kept Veronica up last night. And the night before, for that matter. Her brain just wouldn’t stop _thinking_ about it.

Veronica hardly noticed herself bite her lip as her mind replayed the events. Heather’s hands on her sides, trailing over her skin with the sharp ends of her nails. Heather’s breath beating against her lips and her neck. The feeling of her lips on her own, her tongue exploring her mouth-

Shit, she forgot to look away from Heather.

Icy blue slits burned into her gaze, having noticed her staring. Veronica’s eyes widened in realisation, the embarrassment setting fire to her cheeks. Her gaze darted away - literally anywhere else - and she sipped on her coffee stiffly.

“What do you all have first?” Duke suddenly asked.

“Biology,” McNamara said.

“English,” Chandler and Veronica replied, before locking eyes with each other.

 _Oh… right,_ Veronica thought. _We have a lesson together first thing of Monday. Thrilling._

“Euch. Have fun with that.” Duke was clearly aiming her comment towards McNamara. “Wish I had English right now. Anything other than math.”

_How about you swap places with Heather? You’d be saving my ass if you did._

She refrained from saying that, of course.

 

* * *

 

Heather and Veronica were practically forced to walk to their lesson together. It was made worse by the fact that their classroom was a long-ass walk from the girls bathroom. On the other side of the school and up three flights of stairs, to be exact.

Veronica could feel her pulse beating against her rib cage, so much to the point where she developed a paranoia of Heather being able to hear it. Maybe that’s why she had clamped her arms around her English folder, pressing it hard against her chest in an attempt to silence the loud thumping.

She looked down at the folder in her arms.

_I preferred it when it was Heather pressed against me._

Her face morphed into one of perplexity.

 _What the fuck, Veronica?_ she chided at herself.

She then gave a side glance to the girl walking alongside her.

 _Eh. I see what I mean,_ she thought as she gazed at Heather’s curvy, yet thin body, and remembered how warm she had felt when she had clambered on top of her-

 _Veronica, stop checking out your best friend. Or enemy. Or… whatever she is,_ she told herself. She probably should have listened.

Her eyes off the road ahead, she didn’t realise she was heading towards the first flight of stairs. Her foot slammed into the first step, hooking over it and launching her forward. Her face would have smashed into the steps, had she not shielded it with one arm. Kinda sucks that it was her writing arm, though. She needed that for later.

While relieved that there weren’t many other students around to witness her misery, she could still feel Heather’s glare glued to her. Slowly she picked herself up, grabbing her folder (which somehow managed to not release a sea of English papers) and hauling herself up with the metal rail. It was when she was finally on her feet that she dared to look at Heather, who was staring at her in both bewilderment and vexation. She then reached out to grab Veronica’s blue sleeve and drag her up the next few steps.

“What’s gotten into you, Veronica?” Heather hissed through gritted teeth, the warmth of her breath skimming over her lips.

_Not you, unfortunately._

Had she said that out loud, she probably would’ve slapped herself _long_ before Heather would.

“I’m tired,” she said. Not a complete lie, but she knew the real reason was because Heather was just _really pretty-_

“Sort yourself out, Sawyer,” Heather scolded, before letting go of her sleeve to take the lead. Veronica didn’t have the energy to catch up with her, so opted to trail behind her instead.

In front of her, Heather’s skirt swayed from side to side, echoing the movements of her hips, which might she add, were always so smooth and enchanting to her. So she definitely didn’t mind being in full view of the action.

 _Just say she has a nice ass and move on with your day,_ the voice in her head muttered.

 

* * *

 

Underneath her textbook, Veronica had her diary at the ready. Her mind just wouldn’t pay any attention to the teacher babbling about connotations at the front of the classroom, she was too busy casting side glances to Heather, who was two rows across and one down from her.

Her chin rested on her curled up hand, which was the only thing keeping her head from dropping onto the desk.

Though the view wasn’t great, she could still clearly see Heather. She looked just as bored as her, as she could tell from the way she sank in her chair, slamming her thumb on the top of her pen and emitting a constant clicking sound that Veronica would have usually found annoying as shit.

Instead, she found herself amused. Amused at a classmate who sat in front of Heather and had turned around to tell her to shut up, to which Heather responded by spitting out a piece of gum she had been chewing right at his face. His expression coiled up with disgust, but he didn’t say another word, and turned back round in shame. Heather’s face twisted into a smug grin.

 _She’s such a mythic bitch,_ Veronica thought, smiling.

Her eyes were so busy admiring the bitchy grin on the red-heads lips (or what she could see of it from her angle) that she didn’t hear the teacher call her name.

“Veronica!”

She didn’t know if it was the second or third time that she finally snapped her head to the front of the room.

“Uh- yes?”

There was a low chuckle from the students surrounding her. Shit, she missed something.

The teacher gave an irritated sigh. “I _said_ , could you please give me a word relating to the adjective ‘hot’?”

 _Hot…_ Her mind raced, and she blurted out the first word that came to her.

“R-red,” she stammered.

The teacher nodded. “Good,” she praised, turning to the black board to add her suggestion to the list. She wrote ‘red’ beneath the word ‘fire.’

 _Oh… that kind of hot,_ she thought.

Her gaze drifted over to Heather once again, and she could have sworn her cheeks were brighter than before.

She shook her head and told herself that she was imagining things, before slipping her diary out from underneath her textbook.

_Dear diary,_

_What the fuck. Why is Heather so pretty._

 

* * *

 

 _That was my Monday,_ Veronica had began to write faster, ignoring the pain developing in her hand as she did so. _Thanks to Heather, I hurt my hand, and now it hurts after writing for a while._

She decided to drop her pen and let it roll down the book, only being caught by her abdomen. She let her hand rest on her thigh, waiting until the aching began to fade. Occasionally she’d stretch her fingers out, and would hear quiet pops.

Once the pain was less noticeable, she picked up the pen again.

_Needless to say, I couldn’t bring myself to sit next to Heather on that day. Thank God McNamara let me sit next to her._

She bit her lip.

_Wasn’t so lucky yesterday, though. Heather had cheerleading practice and Heather was called into some yearbook meeting or something. So I was left with Heather for an hour, all by myself. And… well..._

 

* * *

 

Veronica followed Heather over to the table that held the unspoken law of ‘you cannot sit here unless you’re a Heather.’ As expected, it was empty. A whole table ready for two people.

Heather sat down on her usual side of the table. Veronica wasn’t even thinking when she sat down next to her.

“Um…” Heather turned to look at her, giving her a questionable look. “Why are you sitting next to me when there’s a whole side free?” She narrowed her eyes at her, pointing a red talon to the bench opposite to them both. Veronica gulped, before scrambling to sit on the other side. Heather shoved her lunch tray over to the other side of the table.

“Fucking pillowcase,” she heard Heather mutter under her breath. Veronica draped her hand over her face and looked down, trying to hide the redness growing on her cheeks.

_She just insulted me and I’m blushing like a dumbass._

She kept her head down, letting her hair droop over her face to cover up the obvious blushing. Her gaze was glued to her plate, as she began to force the gross slop that was supposed to be curry down her throat.

She’d been staring at her dinner tray for about five minutes when she finally decided it was safe to look up.

Heather wasn’t looking at her. She was sipping on a cup of water while gazing down at her reflection in her small pocket mirror.

Veronica, sitting opposite her, couldn’t avoid staring at her.

She’d always known that Heather was attractive. Mainly because everyone else had told her that she was attractive. Heather herself was included in that group of people.

And now she was sitting her, her gaze skirting over her wavy auburn locks, her clear, pale skin, her perfectly shaped face and her sky blue eyes, wondering why the hell she’d never experienced said attraction first hand before.

 _Probably because I always saw her as a bitch before anything else,_ she told herself. Though, if that was the case, then she had no idea what had changed. Well, other than Heather making out with her, that is.

Heather’s blue irises flickering up from her mirror snapped Veronica out of her thoughts. She dragged her gaze away as quickly as she could, hoping that she hadn’t noticed.

Apparently she wasn’t quick enough.

Heather suddenly stood up, stepped over the bench she had been sitting on and swerved around the lunch table to grab her blue sleeve. She tugged on it harshly, making Veronica whip her head up to face her. She was met with a cold glare.

 _Shit,_ she thought, standing up warily. While Heather let go of her clothing, her venomous gaze was enough to drag her out of the cafeteria.

Once they were in the hallway, Heather looked as if she was about to lead her to the bathroom, as that was the direction that she was heading. She’d only took a few steps forward, however, before she spun around. Veronica stopped in her tracks, thinking that she’d turned around to snap at her for something, but was only met with Heather walking in the opposite direction. Veronica silently followed, though she was confused to where they were heading.

Heather lead her outside - a place that the group had been avoiding for a few weeks due to it being dark, cloudy and overall miserable. Today was no exception. There was no sun in sight.

Veronica was unable to figure out what their destination was up until Heather took a turn down a darker corner of the school, and it was then when she realised she’d been taken to the smoking corner. She’d been there a couple of times before - sometimes by herself - to have a quick cigarette before class.

In the shaded alleyway, Heather Chandler’s red blazer and blazing hair was almost enough to light the area up. It was an odd sight; Chandler never came down here. This was the place where the goths and lone wolves gathered to collectively make a smoke cloud.

Speaking of which, there were a couple of those people already there. Two goths were leaning against the rusted wire fence, while a group of three brooding kids dressed in black had accumulated next to a dumpster. Regardless of what clique they belonged to, however, all their heads turned at the presence of a colour as bright as Chandler’s.

Heather stared right back at them, her gaze cold and threatening. She leaned against the brick wall, pulling out a cigarette from her blazer. Without looking at Veronica, she held out her palm, and it didn’t take her long to figure out that she was asking for a lighter.

Veronica scrounged around her pocket, searching for the tiny object, but only found two left over cigarettes from last week. She shot Heather an apologetic glance, which in tern earned her an angered glare.

It was then when Veronica realised that the few teenagers who had been lingering around the area before had silently sauntered away, probably due to the pressure of being only a few feet away from Heather Chandler. Well, all but one, that is.

From the dark of the alley further down appeared a tall figure who she recognized immediately.

“Need a lighter?” JD asked, his demeanor calmer than any of the other students that had been here a few moments ago.

Chandler stared back at him, her eyes darkening.

“Fancy that,” she sneered. “Jesse James in the flesh.”

JD shrugged off the comment, a one-sided smile appearing on his face.

“Looks like you found me,” he said, reaching into a pocket in his black overcoat. “I’ll get out of your way in a sec.” He pulled out a black lighter and handed it over to Heather.

Veronica couldn’t help but admire the bravery portrayed by him. It was rare to see someone come as close as a few inches away from Heather Chandler.

Heather looked at the lighter, her face scrunching up slightly in disgust, before she snatched it out of his hand. She stuffed the cigarette in her mouth and flicked the lighter on. Once the cigarette was lit, she shoved it back into JD’s hands. He let out a quiet huff of laughter, before outstretching the lighter to Veronica.

She offered a grateful smile, taking the lighter from him and pulling out one of the two cigarettes that remained in her pocket. She lit it up, then trapped it between her teeth, and returned the lighter.

JD gave her a curt nod. “Well then, guess I’ll leave you alone in your new territory,” he said in a calm and collected tone, before stalking away.

Chandler stared after him with a malicious glare.

“Hopefully he doesn’t catch fire when he steps into the sun,” she grunted.

Veronica gave a chuckle. “What sun?”

Heather didn’t look amused. Instead, she turned to her, a dangerous glint in her eye. Veronica shrunk under her gaze.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stare at me like your life depended on it,” she hissed, removing the cigarette from her red lips and blowing out a puff of smoke.

Veronica gazed her her guiltily, breathing out a cloud through her nose.

“Was it that obvious?” she murmured, gazing at the withered stone floor.

“ _What is that obvious_?” Heather’s voice became high pitched, her tone dripping with mockery. “Yes, dipshit,” she snarled, turning her whole body towards her. Veronica could feel herself burn under her glare.

“Sorry, I guess,” she uttered, avoiding her eyes at all costs.

“You _guess_?” Heather echoed. “What, does part of you _want_ to out us both as-” She stopped, clamping her teeth together. She then leaned closer to Veronica, her hot, choking breath grazing her lips. Veronica had to bite her lip to hold back a whine. “As _dykes_?” Her voice was a sharp whisper.

Veronica’s brown eyes flashed up to lock with her blue. “Oh, so _now_ you’re calling yourself a lesbian?”

Heather narrowed her eyes at her, inhaling and exhaling more smoke. The cloud slapped Veronica in the face.

“No, but everyone else will be.” She hooked Veronica’s chin with her long red claw. “Which is _why_ you need to stay quiet.”

Veronica felt a shiver shoot through her under the fierce touch of the Demon Queen.

And yet somehow, she felt a burst of courage emerge in her chest. She breathed out her own puff of smoke back onto her. Heather’s eye twitched, but she remained as composed as she could.

“Perhaps you need to get better at shutting me up,” she murmured in a low voice. Veronica, for a brief moment, felt the breath hitting her lips stop.

Then Heather cackled. “What a fucking cliche,” she murmured devilishly, slithering her body around the block Veronica’s path away from the wall. Veronica caught her breath in her throat as Heather inched closer to her. Her heart was racing and her back was pressing up against the wall behind her.

It all appeared to be so amusing to Heather. Veronica took one last breath full of smoke before dropping her cigarette onto the ground. As she parted her lips to free the cloud, Heather caught the smoke in her mouth. She gasped as she felt Heather’s lips lock with her own, followed by her hand snaking around her hip. Veronica closed her eyes while their lips slid over each other, grabbing Heather by her waist and tugging her up against her. Heather wrapped her leg around Veronica in response, locking her in her grip.

Veronica allowed herself to breath as Heather parted, purely to breath in an exhale a last round of smoke. As she breathed out, she flicked her cigarette onto the ground, before closing the gap again, smirking into the kiss. Veronica felt her brush her bottom lip with her tongue, and brought her hand up to bury it in her ginger hair. She pulled her closer, inviting her in to explore her. Heather slipped her tongue past her teeth, and met Veronica’s in a battle for dominance.

Veronica moaned into her mouth, tightening her grip on her her locks as their tongues intertwined. The horribly bitter taste of tobacco filled her mouth - a mixture of her own and Heather’s cigarette. Despite the awfulness, the unyielding taste gave her a sense of enthrallment. She tugged on her red hair, earning a whine from her. She smirked at the sound, slipping her hand up her side and pushing her head forward to shove her tongue through Heather’s lips. She heard her growl at the sudden dominance. Veronica could hold back a cackle.

Suddenly, Heather was off of her, glaring at her with hazy eyes. A smirk slithered on to her lips. Veronica held her gaze with morale.

Heather brought a hand up to cup Veronica’s chin. “I find you cute, Veronica.”

Veronica’s eyes rounded a little at the comment. Warmth swelled in her chest.

“You do?”

“Yes,” she murmured, leaning closer. “I find it cute how you think you can overthrow me.” She then smashed her lips back into hers, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip. Veronica hissed at the pain, but refused to pull away, and allowed Heather to suck on it. She let out a whimper as her teeth grazed against her lip, and desperately clung on her red blazer to pull her in.

The hand on her waist slowly began to slide down; over her hip, down her thigh, then stopped just below her skirt. Heather slipped her tongue into Veronica’s mouth again, and it was at that moment when her hand bolted underneath her skirt to snake around and cup her ass. Veronica gasped, but was only separated from her lips for a split second before Heather caught her lips, pushing her head up against the wall. She let out a high pitched whine as she felt the grip on her ass tighten, the acrylic nails digging into her skin.

“ _God,_ ” she gasped, temporarily pulling away, panting. Heather gazed at her with eyes that could only ever belong to a demon.

“You’re too easy to please,” she chuckled, playing with the hem of her underwear. Veronica’s heart began to race while she did so. Her other hand came up to tuck her hair behind her ear, then she leaned in to pinch her earlobe between her teeth. She gasped. Heather giggled evilly, her low voice sending a shiver down her spine. “No wonder you can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“I haven’t touched you since- ah!” Heather bit down on her ear. “-Since Friday…”

“ _Saturday_ ,” Heather corrected, brushing her tongue over her neck. “And I’m aware, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been wanting to…” She nibbled at her skin. Veronica tried and failed to hold back a moan. She brought one hand to pull on Heather’s hair.

“D-don’t leave any marks,” she breathed. Heather scoffed.

“Can’t you handle it?”

Veronica scowled. “The last one’s aren’t even close to being gone,” she muttered, chewing on her lip as Heather continued to kiss and lick her neck hungrily. “And I’m sick of having to get up earlier than usual to cover them with foundation.”

Heather gave a huff. “You act like you don’t love it,” she chuckled, moving over to her other ear to begin nibbling on it. Veronica moaned softly, hating how the girl was right.

The brunette caressed her sides, relishing the feeling of her lips stroking her, her teeth grazing her. It seemed to lure her in closer, as she pressed her body right up against hers. Her warmth enclosed around her, sheltering her from the cold air drifting around them. Honestly, all she wanted to do was hold here there forever.

Unfortunately, the logical part of her brain was quick to remind her that that wouldn’t happen.

The sound of distant voices was what yanked Heather away from her. Her blue eyes flashed over to the approaching footsteps, all of which were about to come around the corner. Veronica watched her as she frantically tucked her hair back behind her shoulders, while also grabbing her mirror from her pocket. She quickly checked her reflection, making sure nothing was out of place.

All the while Veronica remained with her back against the wall. All she did was release her hair from behind her ear, allowing it to flow around her neck again.

Once a group of what looked like a bunch of skater kids made a turn and started down the alleyway, Heather slipped her mirror back into her blazer and straightened her posture. She looked as if nothing had happened.

She finally looked back at Veronica.

“Coming?”

Veronica watched her fold her arms, waiting for her to follow. She bit her lip.

“I…” She pursed her lips. “I’ll catch up.” She slipped her hand into her pocket and grabbed the last cigarette she had.

Heather eyed the cigarette between her two fingers, before giving a dismissive huff and walking off, passing the skater clique on the way. None of them suspected a thing. They only weaved around her, as if there were some sort of force field guarding her. They dared not risk bumping into her.

Veronica watched Heather go, her usual dominating aura radiating from her with each stride she took. Back in September, she would feel a mixture of admiration and fear at the sight.

Now it was a mixture of admiration and attraction.

One of the skater kids was kind enough to lend her a lighter - probably due to the fact that many students suddenly found her attractive as soon as she became a Heather. Before then, no one would’ve batted an eye at her.

She lit the second cigarette, the bitter flavour filling her mouth. She was immediately reminded of Heather.

She breathed out again, wrapping one arm around her abdomen. She could still feel the ghost of Heather’s touch on her sides.

God, she actually _missed_ Heather Chandler.

_I’m in deep shit._

 

* * *

 

_You know, I could’ve just summed this up with a ‘we made out in the emo corner of the school,’ but, I mean…_

Veronica rocked her pen back and forth between her fingers.

_Fucking hell, I can’t stop thinking about it._

She stopped to bury her face into the palms of her hands and let out a small groan. In doing so, she didn’t hear footsteps coming up behind her.

“Veronica?”

She gasped and whipped her head around. Any panic she had felt faded as soon as she saw who the voice belonged to.

“Martha!” She smiled widely. “God, it feels like I haven’t spoken to you in weeks!” She shut her diary and placed it on the step next to her bag so that she could stand up and rush to hug her friend. Martha eagerly reciprocated the embrace.

“It’s okay!” she told her, pulling back. “I know you’ve been busy with the Heathers.”

 _That’s one way to put it,_ she thought to herself, her mind briefly flashing back to yesterday, and then to Saturday. She quickly shook the memory away.

“That’s no excuse,” she said guiltily. “I _really_ need to make more time for you.”

Martha gave a grateful smile. “I mean, I wouldn’t be complaining or anything.” Her dark brown gaze then slipped to her diary behind her. “Though, if you’re with the Heathers, then why are you sitting here?” She eyed the dimly lit area of the school. “I can’t imagine this being a good hang out place for them.”

Veronica bit her lip. “Oh… no reason…” She rubbed her arm nervously as she glanced back to the diary. “Well, technically there is a reason.”

Martha’s expression became one of concerned. “Are you avoiding them?”

Veronica pursed her lips, nodding slowly. Martha gasped.

“What happened? Did you have an argument?”

“Oh, no, nothing’s _wrong_ , per say…” _Bullshit._

“Oh, did you just need space or something?”

She wasn’t wrong in that regard. “...Yeah, pretty much.”

“Aw,” her friend gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder (having to reach up quite far to do so). “Well, with that in mind, I was wondering if you were free this Friday?”

Veronica gazed down at her friend, smiling. “Yeah! I should be, anyway.”

Martha beamed. “Do you wanna come round for a movie night?”

“Of course!” Her gaze darted away. “We… haven’t had one for two weeks.”

“It’s _fine_ , Veronica,” she said reassuringly. “If I was a Heather I’d probably be just as busy with… whatever it is you do. Partying and all?”

The concept of _Martha_ being a Heather brought a laugh out of her.

“You’d make an awful Heather, Martha,” she chuckled. “Not really a bad thing, but-”

“I’d _hate_ to be a Heather!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know how you all do it. Partying weekly?” She let out a huff of laughter. “Parties are a special occasion for me!”

Veronica couldn’t help but be fond of her innocence. “Probably best if it stays that way,” she said, before moving away from the topic of the Heathers. “So, uh- usual time on Friday?”

Martha nodded, grinning. “I’ll have everything ready by seven!”

She opened her mouth to comment, but was cut off by the sound of heels - or should she say, three pairs of heels.

Veronica whipped her head up, accidentally locking eyes with Heather Chandler.

“ _Told_ you!” McNamara chimed, pointing towards Veronica. Chandler rolled her eyes, before stepping into the darker area.

“Have you been here the whole time?” she asked, her voice low and dominating. It seemed to be enough to make Martha shift away from them, opting to stand beside Veronica as they approached.

“Uh, yeah?” Veronica replied with uncertainty. Heather stopped a few feet away from her, which was then mimicked by Heather and Heather.

In the back of her mind, she wished she’d moved just a little bit closer.

Chandler eyed Martha with an unreadable expression, before her gaze flickered back to Veronica.

“Well, while you were _busy_ ,” she tilted her head towards her friend. “ _We_ just got invited to a Remington party.”

Veronica arched a brow at her. “Remington party?”

“Next Saturday,” Duke said, stalking up to one side of Chandler.

“Pretty exciting!” McNamara added, cantering to the other side of Chandler. “You’ve never been to a Remington party before, have you?”

Veronica shook her head.

“Well, now’s your chance,” Heather Chandler said. “You technically weren’t invited, but it’s not like anyone can complain if we bring you along.”

The corner of her mouth picked up. “Uh… then yeah, sure!”

“Good,” was all that Chandler said. “And you don’t happen to be free this Friday, do you?”

Veronica’s mouth dropped into a frown.

“Oh- uh…” She gave a side glance to Martha, then back to Heather. “I literally just made plans for that day.”

Heather arched a brow at her, her hand on her hip. Veronica refrained herself from staring at said hip, and instead focused on how _burning_ Heather’s icy gaze was.

“What, you got a _movie night_?” she spat the last two words out like venom. Veronica caught her breath in her throat, but released the tension that had built up in her shoulders, then took a step towards her.

“Is there a problem with that?” she replied, her tone calm yet stern. Heather blinked at her, clearly slightly taken aback by her defiance. She quickly composed herself.

“Yes; it clashes with our plans,” she whirred, her voice low. The sound threatened to send a shudder through Veronica.

“Pity,” she replied. “But I need to make time for Martha.”

There was a dangerous glint in Heather’s gaze. A strange mix of fear and arousal swelled in Veronica’s chest.

“And what about us?” she replied, her tone dire. Veronica held her gaze up with confidence.

“Is two weeks in a row not good enough for you?” she shot back. “We went to Heather’s house last week and a party before then. I feel like I’ve earned a break.”

Heather raised her brows. “A _break_?” she echoed. “What are we, an occupation?”

_Once upon a time, yes._

“No, I mean-” Veronica pinched the bridge of her nose and gave an exasperated sigh. “If I’m gonna go to this Remington party next week, can I at least spend some time with my friend this week?” Her tone softened.

Heather stared at her for a few long moments of silence, the air thick with the tension shared between the two girls. Then she finally spoke.

“Fine,” she spat out. “So long as you’re definitely coming to the Remington party?”

Veronica nodded. “Of course!”

“Good,” she said dryly. “We’ll make arrangements next week.”

Veronica watched her, Heather and Heather turn around and leave (though not before McNamara gave her friendly wave goodbye, to which she reciprocated). Once they turned the corner and out of sight, Veronica let out a breath that she wasn’t aware she was holding.

“Um…” Martha chipped. “That sounds exciting!”

“Mhmm…” Her eyes lingered on the corner that the Heathers had turned for the next few heartbeats, before she brought her gaze around to meet Martha, who looked slightly concerned.

“Uh, do you really need to make room for them on Friday?” she asked apologetically. “Because I’m sure I could make some arrangeme-”

Veronica placed a hand on her shoulder. “No, no, it’s fine,” she said. “Like I said - I need to make more time for you.” She smiled down at her. “Also… I need my space from them, if not for a day.” She glanced over her shoulder, then back to her friend. “So you’re kind of saving my ass here.”

Martha smiled sweetly at her. “Well, I’m glad, though I don’t know what exactly it is I’m saving you from.” A confused glint appeared in her dark brown eyes. “They seemed to be acting perfectly normal around you.”

Veronica slowly nodded. “It’s… difficult to explain,” she murmured, her mind flashing to Heather Chandler. She shook the thought away. “But never mind that.”

As soon as she stopped speaking, the bell sounded throughout the school.

“Ugh - French next,” she muttered to herself. “See you on Friday, then?”

Martha nodded eagerly, smiling, before pulling her into a warm hug. “See you then!”

After Veronica watched Martha go while slipping her diary back into her bag, a thought occurred to her.

 _Perhaps I could tell about everything that’s gone on?_ she mused. _It might be good to get it off of my chest._

She threw her backpack onto her shoulders and stood up.

_Or would that be dangerous?_

The memory of Heather holding her chin, pinning her to the wall with her gaze and uttering how she _had_ to stay quiet.

She sighed to herself.

_Probably._


	2. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST A HEADS UP there's a small mention of groping here, though nothing actually happens. just be aware~

Heather took one last glance in the mirror, checking for at least the fifth time that her makeup, hair and clothing were in place. Her auburn locks curled around each other, the loose strands that ran free from her scrunchie draping down the sides of her face, while the rest flowed over her shoulders and back. Her bright red lipstick matched her dress and studded high heels. Her sky blue eyes shone brightly against the dark grey eyeshadow.

 _Perfect,_ she told herself, grinning. She then grabbed her makeup pouch, shoved it into her handbag and began the long trek to the front door of her house. Just before she opened the door, she grabbed her maroon coloured jacket and threw it on.

Just as Heather heard her door click, the familiar sound of a blaring car horn blasted from outside. She opened the door and immediately spotted the green vehicle, shimmering under the streetlamp. After closing her door, she made her way down the long path towards the gate, and eventually made it to the passenger side door.

“Hi, Heather!” she was immediately greeted by Heather McNamara’s voice. Duke didn’t say anything. Instead just nodded to her and waited for her to fascine her seatbelt.

“Hi, Heather,” Chandler eventually replied, peering from around her seat over to the blonde. She saw that she was wearing a black crop top, a grey skirt and a tight yellow jacket. All of this was accompanied by her usual makeup; light pink lipstick and eyeshadow.

“You look great!” McNamara exclaimed, looking her up and down. Chandler gave a prideful smile.

“I’m glad you agree.” She took another glance at her outfit. “I think you look pretty good as well.”

Heather’s eyes widened a little. “You do?” She glimpsed at her own clothes. “Because I just threw whatever on. Didn’t wanna go too crazy tonight, y’know?”

“Same here,” Duke spoke up for the first time as she started up her jeep. “Didn’t wanna waste any clothes for Kurt’s house party when we have the Remington party next week.”

Heather gazed at Duke’s attire, seeing that she was wearing a turquoise bat-wing style top with a black skirt.

“I can tell,” Chandler playfully sneered. Duke flipped her off, if not subtly, as she didn’t remove her hand from the wheel.

“Heather, can we drop by Snappy Snack Shack?” McNamara asked, leaning forward to grip the seat in front of her.

Duke groaned. “Do we _need_ to? We’ll be late if we do.”

“ _Fashionably_ late,” Chandler corrected. “So the answer is yes.”

Duke arched a brow, though kept her eyes on the road. “I mean, not your car but okay?” she muttered. Chandler grinned triumphantly.

 

* * *

 

Heather made her way around to the alcohol section of the store, scanning the selection in front of her. She wondered what type, if any, to buy.

Her eyes paused when she got to the shelf full of vodka. While reading the bottles’ labels, her brain did the worst possible thing and flashed back to the last time she had bought the brand of alcohol. It was as if her mind had created a ghost of Veronica’s touch, forcing her to remember the feeling of her hands on her, tugging at her hair and scratching her nails down her back-

“You’re not gonna buy more vodka, are you?” She was snapped out of her state by the sound of McNamara’s voice. She whipped her head around to see that the shorter girl had suddenly appeared next to her. “Did you run out of the last bottle already?”

Chandler gave a huff. “Of course not. I’d be dead if I drank the whole thing in the span of a week.”

McNamara gave an unconvinced grin. “You drank quite a lot when you were at my house last week, and you lived to tell the tale.”

Chandler gave an amused chuckle. “Hardly. My head fucking _killed_ the next morning.” She began to saunter away from the alcohol selection to maintain her conversation with Heather, who had shifted over to a coffee machine.

“Yeah, no kidding!” she said, placing a cup underneath the dispenser. “I’ve never seen you so drunk. Not in a while, anyway.”

“Must be saying something,” she leaned over the counter while McNamara selected the type of coffee she wanted. She absent mindedly gazed at the dispenser as it poured the dark brown liquid into her cup, up until McNamara spoke again.

“Do you remember all of what happened that night?” she asked. Chandler’s alarm bells began to ring in her head as it began to replay the events once again.

“Why?” she questioned slowly, arching a brow at her. McNamara glanced at her briefly, before returning her focus to her coffee.

“Oh! Uh- no reason,” she stammered, twisting a lid onto her cup. “I was just- don’t you remember?”

Heather stared at her. “Remember _what_?”

McNamara’s eyes widened slightly by her harsh tone.

“Oh, just when I found you and Veronica on the stairs,” she explained, a slight chuckle escaping her. “I had to drag you all the way up!”

The panic flaring in Heather’s chest began to relax. _Of course she doesn’t know what happened,_ she scolded herself. _She would’ve said something by now._

Still, when she effortlessly racked her brain for such a memory, she found nothing.

“I don’t remember that at all,” she said, shrugging. “When the hell was that?”

“Sometime past midnight,” McNamara replied, grabbing four sugar sackets before beginning to drift over to the cashier. “I got woken up by what I think was you falling over?” She then let out a huff of laughter. “Twice.”

Chandler rolled her eyes - more at herself than anything else.

“I’m _glad_ I don’t remember that,” she chided. “Fucking hell.”

McNamara giggled. “If it makes you feel any better, Veronica was pretty far gone too.”

The mention of the brunette’s name outloud formed a knot in her heart. She scorned at herself for feeling any sort of anxiety at the shear _mention_ of the girl. She was so busy doing so that she forgot to continue the conversation.

“Um, you getting anything?” McNamara suddenly asked, breaking Chandler out of her thoughts again. She glanced around the store.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I’ll go lurking.”

With that, she left McNamara to her own devices and began stalking around the store, her eyes scanning over the numerous snack options.

In doing so, she forgot to watch her step.

She let out a sharp gasp when an unexpected weight bumped into her. She turned to see what she had hit, and it was as if her stomach had twisted itself so fucking tightly that it was about to rip.

“Oh! Heather!” God, either her mind was playing some really cruel fucking tricks on her or fate wanted her to suffer. She locked eyes with the brunette, reluctantly at that.

“What are _you_ doing here?” she spat. Veronica pursed her lips, shifting away from her a little. Heather stopped herself from reducing the amount of space between them.

“Oh, I was just dropping by to get some snacks,” she replied nonchalantly

“What, for your little tea party?” she jeered, crossing her arms over her chest. Veronica’s gaze darkened.

“ _Yes_ ,” she replied sharply, as if she were trying to sound intimidating. Heather held back a crude laugh. Veronica continued to speak.

“I actually forgot to ask you what it was you were doing tonight,” she said, taking a sip of a red slushie she had only just noticed in her hand.

Heather snorted. “Not really your concern, since you ditched us to play with barbie dolls.”

Veronica sneered at her, actually managing to muster a dangerous glint in her eyes. It lit a flame in Heather’s chest, burning her lungs.

“My sincerest apologies that my life doesn’t revolve around you,” she hissed, taking a step towards her. She sucked more of the slushie from the cup through her straw, then spoke again. “I had no idea that’s what you wanted?”

Her voice changed when she said that. It sounded like a challenge, yet it felt like teasing. Torturous teasing.

And the worst part about it was that it _worked_.

Heather narrowed her eyes at her, ignoring the loud throbbing in her head caused by her desperate heart beat.

“Well, if you _must_ know what you’re missing out on,” she said, keeping her voice cooler than it had been before. “We’re going to Kurt’s. He’s throwing a house party.”

Any venom that had been visible in Veronica’s mocha irises seemed to melt, replaced with humour.

“So, I’m not missing much then?” She tilted her head, amusement in her tone. Heather appeared to not be immune to her playfulness, and felt the corner of her lips pick up.

“Suppose not,” she said. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be going so easy on you if this was the Remington party.”

Veronica rolled her eyes, giving a light huff.

Heather gazed at her for a moment longer, wondering to herself why she felt as if she could stare at her for at least half an hour more.

 _Because you kissed her,_ a voice chided her from the back of her mind. _Three times_.

She tried to hide any disgust that may have crept onto her expression.

“You ready, Veronica?” A deep voice sounded from behind her. She snapped her head around and came face to face with 87’s emo kid embodiment.

This time, she welcomed any disgust to appear on her face.

“What’s the school shooter doing here?” she hissed to Veronica, who was busy slurping on her slushie.

“Oh, I bumped into JD in the parking lot earlier,” Veronica explained. “He offered me a ride to Martha’s.”

Heather bitterly scoffed. “A ride in what? A black van with a missing license plate?”

Veronica shook her head. “Motorbike.”

“Indeed,” JD chimed in, his tone so chill that it was sickening. Heather scowled at him.

“Don’t even think about kidnapping her for your Satanic Ritual - there are three witnesses here,” she growled at him. While she knew she was being hyperbolic, her tone sounded dead serious. Veronica rolled her eyes, muttering a “Heather…”

JD just chuckled. “Never took the Head Bitch of the school to be protective.”

Heather snarled at him. “You’re not funny.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

No use in covering it up. Heather fucking _hated_ this kid.

While the two of them held each other’s gaze, one calm, the other venomous, a much more sweeter voice chipped in from behind her.

“Veronica!” McNamara exclaimed. Heather turned around to see the blonde coming up to the brunette, offering a friendly smile. “What are you doing here?”

Veronica chuckled, probably due to the exact same words being repeated by another Heather, only this time they were much more welcoming.

“Getting a slushie and some snacks,” she replied. “Then I’m off to Martha’s.”

“Oh, fancy that,” McNamara giggled. “We’re just about to head off to Kurt’s.”

“I’ve heard.” She then turned back to JD. “Anyway, you packed the snacks, right?”

“All set,” he replied.

McNamara shot him a curious glance.

“Have we met?”

JD gave a casual shrug. “Not formally. No need for introductions, though. I know who you are.”

Veronica turned to McNamara. “This is JD,” she explained. “He’s giving me a ride to Martha’s.”

“Oh.” She nodded slowly.

“ _Speaking_ of which,” Chandler cut in harshly. “ _We_ should really get going,” she told McNamara, who curtly nodded.

“Us too,” Veronica said, beginning to make her way towards the exit. The three girls ended up trailing behind JD.

While they walked down the narrow aisle, she could have sworn she felt Veronica’s hand brush against hers. She would have chalked it up to the aisle being too small for them to walk a suitable distance from each other, but considering just how much Veronica had been _lusting_ after her all week, she couldn’t bring herself to.

Or maybe she didn’t want to.

She didn’t have time to give it much heed. Soon enough they left the store, and they had a whole parking lot to themselves.

Ironically enough, Heather’s jeep was parked only a few spaces from Jesse Dean’s motorbike. Heather’s blue stare was glued to Veronica as she separated from her and Heather in favour of following JD to his vehicle.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a spare helmet, so you’ll have to hold on tight.”

An odd mixture of fear and anger flared up in Heather’s chest.

“You’re making her ride a motorbike with no _helmet_?” she scoffed, marching towards them both. “It’s fucking dark out. I hope you have good night vision, motherfucker.”

Though her gaze was currently burning into JD, she could see Veronica look at her, eyes round with surprise.

“Heather, it’s fine-”

“Shut up, Veronica,” she spat, glaring at her.

Veronica wasn’t phased, however.

“It’s a five minute drive, Heather. I’ll be fine.”

The calmness in her voice sent a sense of reassurance through her, but she still stood her ground.

“We could drive you,” she muttered. Veronica arched a brow at her, but was cut off before she could even open her mouth to say anything.

Heather Duke slammed on her horn from her jeep, before leaning out of a rolled down window.

“Hey, guys?” she barked. “We don’t have all night.”

Chandler glared at her for a moment, the common phrase ‘shut up, Heather’ on the tip of her tongue, but internally she knew she was right. If they stayed here much longer, they’d be way past what could be considered ‘fashionably late.’

She groaned, then turned back to JD, her gaze cold.

“Drive _safely_ ,” she sneered, her voice a mixture of mocking and threatening. Then, without another word, she spun and made her way over to Duke’s jeep. McNamara followed on, and they hopped into their respective seats.

“Oh, Heather!”

Chandler whipped her head over to Duke’s window at the sound of Veronica’s voice. She felt a twinge of disappointment when she realised that she was talking to the girl sitting next to her.

“What?” Duke called back.

“Careful with Kurt and Ram! They’re probably still pissed at us for ‘ruining’ their date,” she said as she climbed onto the motorbike, gripping JD’s waist with the hand not holding her slushie in the process. Heather swallowed the burning feeling rising up from her chest.

Duke scoffed. “Look at you, getting of scott free!” She leaned out the window a little. “It’ll be fine, there’s not much they can do. Their brains are as small as their dicks.”

Veronica laughed. That _contagious_ laugh that Heather found it harder and harder each day to not laugh along with. Tonight was no exception. She let out a snicker.

“Have fun, Veronica!” McNamara called up as Duke turned the ignition key. Veronica gave her a wave.

“You too!”

And before Duke could even step on the peddle, JD tugged on the handle of his bike, letting out loud, obnoxious rumbling before zooming off onto the road. Heather watched them drive off, feeling a wave of anxiety flood through her each time the bike tilted so far that she was _sure_ it would tip over and throw Veronica off.

Clearly she was paranoid as fuck, because that didn’t happen.

Soon after the two were out of sight, Duke’s jeep finally began to move.

She turned to Duke. “You’re not getting drunk tonight, are you?”

She shook her head, her eyes glued to the road. “Drink as much as you want.”

 

* * *

 

What would have been a half an hour walk through the dark town turned into a five minute drive, thanks to JD. While she was paranoid about her lack of helmet, and couldn’t help but feel anxious with each turn that they made, she found herself _loving_ the feeling of the cold air hitting her as they drove at such a speed, and how on edge she was the whole time. It was goddamn exciting.

So it was kind of disappointing when it was over.

“This is it, right?” JD asked, placing his feet on the cold concrete. Veronica glanced at the house that they had stopped by and nodded.

“Yep!” She clambered off of the seat, being careful not to drop her slushie in the process (yes, she had to cling onto it the entire ride like her life depended on it). “Thanks so much, by the way,” she offered a smile to him. “You saved me a lot of walking.”

JD just shrugged, giving a casual grin. “I was coming down here anyway. No trouble, really.”

“Still, considering we’ve spoken twice - and briefly at that.” She thought back to the two times they had met, both of which had been cut short by one of the Heathers “And both times being interrupted by my friends.”

JD gave a light chuckle. “It’s honestly a mystery to why you hang out with them,” he said. “You’re more than a decent human being.”

Veronica gave a huff of laughter. “I mean, it started out as a way to avoid Westerburg’s wrath,” she said. “Still kind of is.”

“Can’t blame you in that regard.”

“Mhmm,” she agreed. “To be honest though, I think it’s gotten to the point where I can call them my friends,” _for the most part_ , she almost added, but bit her tongue before any more words came tumbling out.

“Well, you seem to bring out _something_ in Heather number one,” he commented. Veronica froze.

“Uh- like what?” she stammered, while simultaneously trying to act as dismissive as she could.

“Oh, like I said back there.” His blue eyes drifted over to the street behind him, in the direction that they had come from. “Never seen her get protective over anyone.” He eyed her. Veronica screamed in her head that he wasn’t hinting at anything. “Didn’t think she had a caring bone in her body.”

“Oh, hah, well, I can see why you’d think that,” she laughed, trying to not think about all the events that had happened between herself and Heather over the past week. “She’s not so bad, I guess.”

“I don’t believe that, but whatever floats your boat,” he said, shrugging. He then gripped onto the handles of his bike. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Perhaps one day we’ll have a conversation that lasts more than ten minutes.”

Veronica giggled. “Maybe so.”

She gave him a sheepish wave as he drove off, the sound of his motorbike slowly fading. Once he was out of sight, she turned around and made her way down the short pathway that lead to Martha’s door. She gleefully rang the doorbell and waited for the door to crack open, which didn’t take long.

Martha opened the door and greeted her with a joyful smile.

“Veronica!” she cheered.

“Hey!” Veronica replied, grinning. “I got some snacks on the way here, hope you don’t mind.”

Martha opened the door wider to let Veronica in. “Mind? I’m all for it!” She shut the door. “We’ll probably be needing some extra snacks anyway.”

Veronica threw her shoes off, setting them next to the pile underneath the coat hangers.

“Why’s that?” she asked. “You running out?”

“Oh, no we have plenty.”

Veronica gazed at her curiously while she began to make her way over to the living room. In doing so, she tried to adjust herself to being in such a small house. Well, it _wasn’t_ a small house, it was your average house. But when you’re friends with the Heathers - two of them upper class while the other middle class - it’s as if the house had _shrank_.

“Something going on, Martha?” she grinned suspiciously at her. Martha giggled.

“Not giving away any surprises. Sorry, Ronnie.” She hopped onto the sofa. Veronica laughed as she placed her slushie and her handbag down on the table in front of the couch.

“A surprise?” she echoed. “You never told me about a surprise.”

“That’s because it’s a _surprise_ ,” she said. “And uh… it’s actually because of this _surprise_ that I didn’t just change dates for movie night.” She rubbed the back of her neck apologetically. “Otherwise I would’ve, then you could have went with the Heathers tonight.”

Veronica shot a grateful gaze at her. “Martha, honestly, it’s  _fine_.” She lightly punched her on the shoulder. “Like I said, you’re saving me from-” _a night of me trying and failing to_ not _stare at Heather Chandler and blushing like a fucking idiot_. She clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip, trapping those words inside. She tried to think of something to say in its place, but couldn’t think of anything. “Uh…” is all she ended up saying.

Martha gave her and odd look, but it swiftly faded into one of understanding.

“Hey, I don’t know what’s happening between you three, but I’m sure it’ll blow over, whatever it may be.”

 _Don’t know about that,_ she thought, chewing on her lip.

“Thanks, Martha,” she said, smiling at her. “And it isn’t really three. Just one.”

“Oh. Which one?”

“Chandler.”

Martha stared at her blankly.

“The _red_ one.”

“Oh, _her_.”

“Mhmm,” Veronica hummed in an exasperated manner.

 

* * *

 

The Heathers arrived on Kurt’s street at half seven - half an hour late. Not that they cared. To Heather, it was a way of saying “we’re coming, but we don’t _need_ to come. It’s an honour that we even bothered to show up.”

The three of them got out of the car, leaving their luggage inside, and crossed the street over to Kurt’s house.

First thing to note was that Kurt’s house wasn’t as big as Ram’s. Still big, but not very.

The trio climbed up the few steps that lead up to the large white door, their heels clapping against the concrete in unison. It was Heather Duke who rang the doorbell.

For the next five or so minutes, all they could do is stand idly at the door. McNamara, at the two minute mark, pressed the button again. Duke began to tap her foot against the ground impatiently.

Then, finally, the door opened. Kurt and Ram greeted them on the other side, both of them holding beer bottles.

“Hey there, ladies,” Kurt was the first one to welcome them, his voice slow and low, as if trying to be charming.

Chandler was the first one to step inside.

“Hello, boys,” she replied, offering them a plastic smile in return. She stalked past them slowly, her movements mimicked by Heather and Heather. Ram’s eyes scanned the three of them curiously.

“Hey, aren’t there supposed to be four of you?” he whined. Kurt looked chuffed at that.

“Yeah! Where’s ‘Ronica?”

 _Don’t call her “‘Ronica,”_ she hissed at them internally. _Only I can do that._

“Ill,” Duke stated dryly. “She couldn’t make it.”

Both Kurt and Ram made an effort to make their disappointment visible. The Heathers ignored this, and continued shifting closer to the door where the loud bass of music could be heard, shaking the floorboards.

“Main party’s in the living room,” Kurt told them as he shut the front door. “Though we were just outside chugging on some beer, if you wanna join us.”

Heather slyly looked at them.

“Maybe later,” she falsely promised, before slipping into the living room. She didn’t have to look back to know Heather and Heather were behind her.

“Oooh, Heather,” McNamara gasped, gently tugging on her jacket. “They’re taking Jell-O shots!” She pointed over to a round table, swarmed by tipsy students, covered in shot glasses containing a wide variety of different coloured Jell-O. She then looked up at her, brown eyes hopeful.

Heather gave a light scoff. “Getting drunk so soon?”

“If we wait any longer they might all be gone!” she fretted. Heather sighed, but turned to begin making her way over to the table.

“Great, I’m gonna spend the whole party monitoring you both,” Duke muttered, following close behind. Chandler was about to give a snarky retort, but apparently McNamara beat her to it.

“Now you’ll know how _I_ felt last week!” She glimpsed at her, her smile playful. “Except you have it easier since there’s only two of us.”

“We pay respects to our hero,” she said, though her tone was thick with sarcasm. Chandler rolled her eyes.

“Shut up, Heather.”

“Sorry, Heather.”

The three girls stood behind the crowd and simply waited. Students’ heads turned towards them, and almost immediately parted like the red sea. They waited until the space was wide enough for them to stand without squishing each other, and watched the teenagers scramble to make way for them.

“Pass us a shot each,” Chandler commanded. On cue, one of the country club kids grabbed the three closest shot glasses to them and slid it across the table. Both Chandler and McNamara caught their respective glasses cleanly, not even fumbling when snatching it off the surface of the table.

Duke stopped the glass in its tracks with the back of her hand, but didn’t pick it up. Chandler glimpsed at her oddly.

“Not having a shot?” she questioned, holding her red Jello-O shot just in in front of her lips.

“I already said I wasn’t drinking tonight,” she replied dryly. Chandler scoffed.

“One shot won’t do anything.”

Duke glared up at her with her ivy-green eyes.

“I’m good.”

She held her gaze for a while longer, before shrugging.

“Suit yourself,” she said, hooking Duke’s blue shot glass with her finger and dragging it closer to her. She happily gulped the shot she was already holding, then picked up the red shot to swallow it too.

Following this came her slamming the two glasses on the table.

“Hit us with your best shot,” she challenged, smirking. McNamara hit her glass on the table, right next to hers. She then stood on her tiptoes in order to move closer to her ear.

“Was that a pun?” she whispered, clearly amused. Chandler stifled a laugh.

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean we’re not watching the Princess Bride?” Veronica gasped. “Who are you and what did you do to the real Martha?”

Martha laughed as she threw the Jiffy Pop in the microwave.

“Maybe next time,” she said while she set the timer. “Though I was really feeling Lady and The Tramp tonight.”

Veronica watched the popcorn inside the microwave begin to twirl around, and it was then when she realised just how hungry she was.

“Not gonna lie,” she said, chewing on the straw of her slushie. “I’ve never seen that movie.”

Martha spun around and gaped at her.

“Really? It’s a masterpiece!”

Veronica chuckled. “Guess I’ll find out tonight.” She sucked on her straw to gulp down some of her cherry flavoured drink. “That, as well as whatever this _surprise_ may be.”

Martha giggled with anticipation. “I can’t wait!”

Veronica eyed her friend. “If you can’t wait, then why not show me now?”

“Oh, because it’s not here yet.”

That only confused her more. Apparently it was visible on her face, because Martha chuckled.

“This will all make sense once you find out what it is.”

“I’d sure hope so,” she responded, her attention suddenly drawn to the sound of popcorn kernels popping. The warm salty smell hit her, and she felt her mouth water.

Soon enough the satisfying ding of the microwave sounded, and Martha swung the door open. Veronica grabbed a large bowl from the cupboard and placed it next to her friend so that she could pour the popcorn into it.

“I didn’t know you liked salted popcorn,” Veronica stated, grabbing the bowel once it was filled up completely.

“I haven’t tried it yet, actually,” she said as she grabbed the next bag to place it in the microwave. “It was a request.”

Veronica arched her brow. “A… request?”

As the dark haired girl switched the timer on, she stopped, her eyes growing wide.

“Uhh, no more questions!” she exclaimed, though she was awful at hiding at whatever it was she was hiding. Veronica chortled.

“I’m onto you, Dunnstock,” she told her, bring two fingers to her eyes and then pointing them back at her as she backed out of the kitchen, still holding the bowl of popcorn. Once Martha was out of sight, she spun around to begin walking normally. It didn’t take her long to reach the couch, and placed the bowl of popcorn, along with her slushie, on the coffee table.

“Veronica?” Martha called from the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“Could you please go grab some blankets and pillows from upstairs? I forgot to bring them down!”

“Sure thing!” She gave a thumbs up, even though she wasn’t able to see her do so. She swerved around the couch and over to the door leading to the hallway, then made her way up the stairs. She remarked in her head that it was a relief to not have so many steps to climb, unlike McNamara’s house (or mansion, should she say) which seemed to go on forever.

Almost automatically, her feet carried her over to Martha’s room, where she immediately spotted the chest next to her nightstand. She kneeled down and lifted the top, grabbed some blankets and pillows and stood back up, scrambling with the tangles of fabric in her arms.

While trying to sort them out, a voice chipped in from outside the room.

“Hi, Veronica, dear!” the woman who she knew as Martha’s mother greeted her happily. She smiled back at her.

“Hi, Judy!” she replied.

“You excited for tonight?” she asked, leaning against the wall in the corridor. Veronica chuckled.

“More curious than anything. Martha isn’t dropping any hints to what this ‘surprise’ could be.”

Judy laughed. “I’m sure you’ll love what she has in store,” she said. “Anyway, you two have fun.”

Veronica smiled at her as she passed her to begin making her way back down the stairs.

“Thank you!“ She glanced at the PJs that the woman was wearing. “And, uh, goodnight, I guess.”

“Night, honey!” With that, Martha’s mother trailed down the corridor and disappeared into her own room. Veronica watched her go, not holding back the grin on her face. To her, Judy was like a second parent, she’d known her for that long. That’s the only reason why she was so comfortable with referring to her by her first name.

As she sauntered back down the stairs, struggling to keep track of her footing due to the pillows and blankets blocking her view, she began to muse how, in the past two and a half months of knowing the Heathers, she had only ever met Duke’s parents. McNamara had only mentioned one of hers and Chandler… had never even spoken about them. Odd.

She couldn’t focus on it for long, because half way down the stairs, the doorbell rang. Veronica stopped in her tracks, wondering who could be asking for entry at this time of the evening. A Jehovah’s Witness, maybe?

Before she could get to the bottom of the stairs, Martha came dashing from the living room over to the door. Veronica paused to watch her open the door eagerly, and she couldn’t help but wonder why she seemed to giddy about it.

She understood as soon as she saw who was on the other side.

“No _way_ ,” she gasped, dropping everything in her hands to stumble down the stairs and over to the front door.

“Surprise!” Martha said, spinning around to meet her, a wide grin spread across her face.

“Hey, hey! Long time no see!” A voice that seemed both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, Veronica could stop gaping at the fact that her old friend from middle school was standing right in front of her.

“Betty!” she suddenly exclaimed, lunging forward to hug her, almost knocking her back in the process.

“ _Woah_ , Veronica, you got _tall_!” the girl commented, laughing. Veronica took a step back. God, she’d changed since she last saw her.

“And _you_ ’ _ve_ gotten really…” She scanned her up and down. “...Punk?”

Betty chuckled. “Amazing what a dyed streak of hair can do, huh?” She flicked her purple bangs.

“Your outfit’s different!” Veronica said, pointing to her almost-all black clothing.

“So is yours!” she eyed her black chiffon top and navy skirt. “You look so… uh…”

Veronica gave a huff of laughter. “Popular-girl-looking?”

“A little bit?” There was uncertainty in her voice, as if she wasn’t sure whether or not saying yes or no would be offensive. She just chuckled.

“I may have picked this style up over the past few weeks,” she said, while also noticing Martha close the door.

“Oh, so this is new?”

Veronica was about to reply a ‘yes’ but Martha interrupted by shuffling the two towards the living room.

“Come on, no point catching up four years worth of lost time in the hallway!” she told them. Veronica and Betty both laughed, and Betty slipped into the living room while Veronica scrambled back up the stairs to grab the blankets she had dumped. She brought them back into the room where her two friends were now sitting, and tossed them over when Martha held her hands up in the air, ready to catch them.

“I can’t believe you’re here, after all these years!” Veronica said, plopping down at her end of the couch, next to Betty. “How’d you get back in touch?”

“We bumped into each other about two weeks ago!” Martha explained, picking up the Lady and the Tramp VHS case. “It was uncanny, really.”

“I thought you moved?” Veronica questioned.

“Yeah, well, I’ve moved again,” she said. “Back here!”

She gasped at that. “You live in Sherwood now?”

“Here to stay!”

“Wait,” she leaned forward in her seat. “Does that mean you’re-”

“Moving to Westerburg? You bet.” She winked at her. Veronica beamed.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, before slamming her hand over her mouth. “Oops - sorry, didn’t mean to swear.”

Both Martha and Betty laughed. “It’s fine when you swear, Veronica,” Martha said, pulling the tape out of its case. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, I swear too,” Betty said, elbowing her lightly. “So all is good.”

“Damn,” Veronica chuckled. “You’ve changed a whole lot.”

Betty’s eyebrows picked up. “Is that a good thing?”

“Oh, yeah!” Veronica laughed. “I mean, I’m not saying you were _bad_ before or anything, I just mean that-”

Betty snorted with amusement. “I get you, don’t worry.” She then eyed her outfit again. “So what’s the deal with your new look?”

“Oh, this?” She tugged on her shirt. “Nothing, really. Just a few fashion changes that I’ve made.”

“Veronica’s been hanging out with the popular clique!” Martha explained. “She’s basically at the top of the school now.”

“Woah, really?” Betty gaped at her, astonished. “What’s it like? Have any boys flirted with you?”

The sound of the word ‘flirted’ seemed to remind her brain of every instance she has had with Heather Chandler over the past week, and she desperately tried to shake the memories off.

“Yeah, but none of them have been all that pleasant.” Not a lie. Boys had flirted with her, and not two weeks ago did she go on a disastrous double date with Heather Duke with Ram and Kurt (though she wasn’t about to mention that in front of Martha).

Heather Chandler didn’t count. She wasn’t a boy.

“Aw, shame.” Betty frowned. “How long have you been a ‘popular girl’?”

“Almost three months,” Veronica said. “Basically since the first day of senior year.”

“How’d you manage it? I was told that Westerburg was a minefield. Except with students.”

Veronica let out a long sigh. “You’re not wrong.” She reached forward to grab a handful of salted popcorn. “And I didn’t do it by myself. I got some help from the Heathers.”

“Heathers?” Betty echoed.

“Yeah. They’re the three most powerful-”

“Oh, I know who they are,” Betty cut her off. “I have a friend who goes to Westerburg. He’s told me all about them.”

Veronica cringed. “You probably don’t have the best impression of them, then.”

Betty sheepishly grinned. “Not really.”

Veronica shrugged. “Eh, understandable. The impression is well earned.”

Betty gave her an odd look. “Wait, aren’t they your friends?”

 _One in particular is questionable_. “Yes,” she replied. “But I know they’re bitches.”

It was at that moment when she realised how odd that sounded to an outsider.

“ _But_ ,” she added on. “They’re not _that_ bad when you get to know them.”

 

* * *

 

Heather was starting to feel heavy in the head.

She and Heather McNamara had gone through several Jell-O shots at this point, and had eventually moved onto another table where a more wider variety of alcoholic beverages could be found. She’d lost count of how many shots she had taken already, but she wasn’t too arsed. All she knew was that she was only tipsy, not drunk. There was only so much Jell-O could do.

“What you feeling?” she asked McNamara, who was trailing her gaze over the many bottles, all different shapes, colours and sizes. McNamara hummed as she searched for a desirable choice.

“I might actually try some beer,” she eventually replied, shuffling closer to the two shredded open packaging of beer bottles. Heather gave a half-laugh.

“ _Try_ some beer?”

McNamara yanked a bottle from the packet. “I’ve never had it before,” she stated. “Heather always told me it was gross.”

“Because it _is_!” Heather called from behind them. “It practically shrivels up my tongue.”

Chandler glanced back at her and scoffed. “ _Pussy_.”

Duke scowled at her.

Both their attention was drawn to the popping sound of McNamara tugging to top off of the bottle. She gripped it in her hand, about to take a sip, before being stopped by Chandler’s hand which blocked the pathway between the bottle and her lips. McNamara looked up at her, both confused and curious.

“I have an idea,” she said, smirking. She then turned back to Duke. “Hey, Heather, bet you if Heather can chug the whole bottle then beer is officially superior.”

Duke arched a brow at her, and then glared at the bottle.

“You’re asking for failure,” she jeered. “No _way_ she can drink all of that in one go.”

Chandler let out a huff, hooking her arm around McNamara’s shoulder. “Don’t underestimate her,” she chided.

“I think she’s right,” McNamara chimed in, holding up her bottle. “I don’t think I can drink _all_ of this in one go.”

Chandler rolled her eyes. “Okay, you’re allowed to take a break halfway through.” She released her grip on her. “Deal?”

McNamara glanced at her bottle, then at Duke, and finally at Chandler. Then she grinned.

“Deal.”

Duke came to stand next to Chandler, shooting the taller girl a competitive glance, before they both watched McNamara raise the bottle to her mouth, preparing herself.

“Okay, start in three-” Chandler began,

“Two-” Duke added.

“ _One_ ,” they both said in unison. As soon as they did, McNamara threw her head back and began to down her bottle. She was going for about five seconds when surrounding students turned to notice what was happening.

“Hey! Heather number three is chugging a beer!” some kid called out excitedly. Many heads turned in the blonde’s direction as a result.

“Chug, chug!” someone called out.

“Chug, chug chug!” several other students began to chant. When Heather glanced around her, she saw that a circle of drunk teenagers had accumulated around them, eagerly watching Heather chugging her beer, chanting ‘chug’ in unison. Chandler gave a cocky grin at the sight - she loved seeing a party light up because of her, regardless of how silly the reason may be.

After some time, McNamara finally made it halfway down the bottle, which seemed to be a relief for her since she inhaled deeply through her nose, before continuing to take big gulps of the beer. Chandler noticed that she was starting to get slow in her drinking. She wasn’t worried about losing her bet with Duke, though. She was getting _so_ close to the bottom-

Beer spilled everywhere.

McNamara yanked the bottle away from her mouth, coughing and spluttering, holding her spare hand under her chin to try and catch the liquid dripping from her mouth. Both Chandler and Duke shifted away as she continued to cough out the liquid, and cringed while she did so. A chorus disappointed “aww’s” could be heard from the teenagers surrounding them.

Then, Duke grinned victoriously. “I win!” she exclaimed, turning to Chandler, who wanted to slap the cocky smile off of her face.

“Sorry, Heather-” McNamara coughed again, until wiping the excess beer of her lips with the back of her hand. “It went down the wrong hole.”

A wolf whistle could be heard from the crowd. Heather McNamara glimpsed at the crowd, confused to why someone had whistled at her statement.

Chandler just rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t hold on for a little longer?” She grabbed the bottle, which has less than a quarter left.

“She nearly _choked_ ,” Duke argued. “Just admit you lost, Heather.” She smugly grinned at her. Chandler scoffed.

“I wasn’t denying it,” she shot back, shuffling over to the table decorated with alcohol bottles and leaning against it. “What’s your forfeit, Heather?”

Duke brought a hand up to cup her chin, and hummed in thought.

“How about,” she eventually said. “You chug _two_ beers?” She smirked, eyeing the beer bottles behind her. Chandler followed her gaze over to the drinks, then cackled.

“You underestimate me,” she said, grimacing. She reached over and grabbed two beers, which brought out a collective “oooo” from the students. She held Duke’s gaze confidently as she twisted the cap of the first bottle, tearing it off with a satisfying _pop!_

Duke folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.

“Only one break,” she stated. “And that’s in between drinks.”

“That’s all I need,” Chandler sneered, raising the bottle to her lips. “Go ahead then,” she commanded to the student body, raking them with her gaze. “Give me a countdown.”

“Three!” she heard Ram yell from somewhere in the sea of students.

“Two!” Duke and McNamara both said.

“One!” everyone in the room exclaimed, giddy with excitement.

A split second after they said the final number, Chandler practically threw the alcohol into her mouth.

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean you’ve never seen Lady and the Tramp?” Betty gaped at her while Martha inserted the disk. “It’s adorable!”

“I dunno!” Veronica threw her hands up in front of her in defense. “I just never did!”

“Well, that’s about to change!” Martha gleefully announced, falling back down onto a couch and pulling a blanket over her. “Who knew a movie about two dogs could be so romantic?”

Veronica laughed at that, finding it hard to find any truth in her words. Still, she leaned back in her seat, snuggling against a pillow, and was briefly reminded of that one time when a drunk Heather Chandler had snuggled up against her under the same blanket as her and may or may not have thanked her for saving her from being drugged by some asshole mere hours before. She was quick to push that thought away, however. As pleasant as the memory was, she was _not_ going to use the next hour and a half to muse about Heather. She was going to watch this movie.

The movie introduced her to a dog, as expected. An auburn coloured dog with long ears covered in wavy hair. She was adopted by a fairly posh couple and had two other dog friends who happened to be her neighbours.

The _red haired_ _dog_ didn’t remind her of anyone. That same _red-haired dog_ boasting about her new collar, one that was expensive, _definitely_ didn’t remind her of anyone.

 _“Please excuse me!”_ the dog said to her friends before running off. Veronica let out a sigh.

 _Never mind, she really_ doesn’t _remind me of anyone,_ she mused, relieved. _She’s too polite._

Then she was introduced to the other dog - the male dog, who was a stray. One of the first things he did was save some other strays from a dog catcher, followed by ending up in Lady’s fancy neighbourhood. After making some comments on how fancy (boring) the place was, he bumped into Lady.

“So they’re gonna get together, right?” Veronica whispered to Betty.

“Spoilers!” Betty responded.

“It’s kind of in the name,” she pointed out. “And on the cover.” She glanced at the box, which had a picture of Lady and the Tramp (duh) sharing a dinner in an alleyway.

Regardless of the predictability, Veronica found herself enjoying the movie. She enjoyed the main character’s first interaction - an unfriendly one. Tramp just showed up to tell Lady that she was going to be forgotten about her owners because of the due baby.

The next few scenes featured Lady being neglected by her busy owners, followed by a babysitter being a real hard-ass towards her.

“Don’t like her,” Veronica muttered as she watched her kick the dog out of the house. “Her _or_ her racist-looking cats.”

Both Betty and Martha laughed at that.

Eventually Lady was brought into a pet store and had a red muzzle forced onto her face. She felt a sense of satisfaction when she darted out the store, leaving destruction in her wake. After her escape, she was chased down a dark alleyway by some stray dogs, before Tramp leaped out of nowhere and chased their asses away.

“That dog’s a badass,” Betty mentioned, taking a handful of popcorn. Veronica chuckled.

Tramp eventually took Lady to a zoo, managed to break her muzzle off, followed by the typical Disney romance scenes. Cliche or not though, Veronica always found herself loving them.

And for some reason, watching this little red privileged dog and this lowlife stray slurping spaghetti in a dark alleyway while two french stereotypes sang a song for them both was one of the cutest things she had ever seen.

“Why _haven’t_ I seen this movie before?” she mused out loud. “It really is adorable!”

“Told you!” Betty whispered back, grinning. “One of my favourite Disney movies.”

Veronica gazed at the TV, watching the two dogs doing the iconic ‘kiss’ after having eaten up the same strand of spaghetti. She recognized that the movie was silly; a story about two dogs from different ‘classes’ falling in love. But that didn’t matter. It was cute. Cute watching this little upper class red dog fall in love with a greasy stray.

Her heart swelled at the thought.

 _Greasy stray,_ the words seem to ring in her head violently. _Privileged girl in red._

She bit her lip, digging her nails into the pillow she had been holding for the past hour. It took all of her power to not bury her head into the pillow and _scream_ in some sort of attempt to vomit out the disgustingly sweet feelings swirling around in her chest.

 _It’s Heather Chandler,_ she spat at herself. _Heather-fucking-Chandler!_ Her chin sunk into her pillow, almost guiltily. _She’s a bitch. She’s a_ mythic _bitch. She’s a bully. A fucking_ demon _._ She squeezed her eyes shut. _And most of all, she’d_ never _see me in that way._

Her eyes fluttered open, glancing up at the TV. She’d missed a minute, though was easily pulled back into what was happening. They’d just woken up on a field.

 _“I should’ve been home hours ago,”_  Lady said.

 _“Why? Because you still believe in that ever faithful old dog tray routine?”_ Tramp stopped in front of Lady. _“Oh, come on, Pidge. Open up your eyes!”_

_“Open my eyes?”_

_“To what a dog’s life can_ really _be! I’ll show you what I mean.”_

The two dogs walked to the edge of the hill.

 _“Look down there, tell me what you see,”_ Tramp instructed.

_“Well, I see nice homes, with yards and fences…”_

_“Exactly! Life on a leash. Look again, Pidge.”_

Lady did just that.

_“Look, there’s a great big hunk of world out there with no fence around it! Where two dogs can find adventure and excitement! And beyond those distant hills, who knows what wonderful experiences? And it’s all ours for the taking, Pidge. It’s all ours!”_

_“It sounds wonderful,”_ Lady said, her smile bittersweet.

_“...But?”_

_“But who would watch over the baby?”_

After giving a disappointed smile, the Tramp agreed to take her home. Veronica just prayed that the movie would suck her back in enough to distract her mind from Heather Chandler.

 

* * *

 

Heather’s lungs were burning, almost as much as her throat as she forced the last bit of beer down her throat. Just a bit more, then she will have won. Just another sip.

“Holy fuck, she’s actually gonna do it!” someone exclaimed.

“Heather! Heather! Heather!” Chants began to sound from all around her, her name being sung like a rhythm. “Heather! Heather! Heather!”

The student body cheering her name was a good replacement for oxygen. A triumphant smirk threatened to pull the corners of her mouth upwards, something which would have ended up in beer dripping down her chin. She used all of her power to resist it for the last few moments needed to swallow the tiny, _tiny_ bit left…

She tilted her head as far back as it could go, satisfaction filling her when she felt the last bit of beer drip onto her tongue. She gave one last gulp, before flinging the empty bottle forward, watching glass scatter everywhere, but no alcohol. To her, it was like proof that she had done it.

Excited cheers rose from the crowd, praising her for her dumbass stunt. She grinned widely, keeping her head high. She then turned her gaze to McNamara.

“ _That’s_ how you do it,” she said, pride dripping from her voice. McNamara didn’t even look embarrassed that she just got showed up _hard_ , she only stared at her in awe.

“That was _amazing_!” she exclaimed, lunging forward to embrace her. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that.”

Heather gently pushed the smaller girl away, but allowed her to keep her hands gripped to her arm while she stared up at her with eyes full of admiration.

“Practice,” is all she said with a smug grin. She then turned to Duke, her gaze becoming arrogant.

“You’ll have to try harder, next time,” she jeered. Duke scoffed.

“You _nearly_ broke,” she retorted, though Chandler was surprised to find a hint of amusement in her green eyes. “But good job, I guess.”

Heather cackled. “Thanks, Heather, I appreciate it. I really do.” She sauntered over to her in order to pat her on her shoulders. The shorter girl eyed both of her hands.

“I think the consequences of this is starting to hit,” she said, a corner of her mouth picking up as she glanced at McNamara. Chandler arched a brow at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It _means_ ,” she looked back up at her with a chilled grin. “That I’m gonna have to keep a close eye on you for the rest of the night.”

“I don’t know what you were expecting,” McNamara said, moving closer to them both. “If you tell Heather to chug two beers, she’s _obviously_ going to get drunk.”

Hearing the word made her realise that yes, she was indeed _drunk_ , what with the slight swaying of her body and how she forgot that she was supposed to be the Queen Bee here. She grabbed McNamara by the wrist.

“You’re coming down with me,” she told her playfully, lightly pulling her towards the table covered in alcohol bottles. “I’m not going alone.”

McNamara giggled, stumbling after her. Duke let out a groan as she reluctantly followed them both.

“I’m going to be a proud parent of two drunken toddlers,” she muttered. Both Chandler and McNamara laughed evilly as they grabbed a bottle of liquor.

“That’s something to be proud of?” McNamara questioned, before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Yeah, you’re right. I should be ashamed,” Duke huffed, watching as they shared their bottle of alcohol. “But I’ll stick around, just to be nice.”

“Do you know _how_ to be nice?” Chandler asked, wiping some liquor from her lips. Duke scoffed at her.

“Do _you_?”

Chandler did her best to scowl at her, but she couldn’t stop the laughter in her throat tumbling out.

“I’m starting to regret giving you two beers to chug,” Duke stated. Chandler flipped her off, still giggling. McNamara began to mimic her, trying her best to hold back laughter while she still had alcohol in her mouth.

“God, you better not spit any more out,” Duke said, coiling back from the blonde just in case. Luckily for everyone, McNamara managed to gulp it down before she burst into fits of giggles.

While the two girls let out a load of drunken laughter, loud music began to play. The trio all turned their head towards what seemed like the dance floor, where swarms of teenagers were dancing, their movements clumsy and sporadic. Chandler gave a huff, before maneuvering over to the crowd with McNamara following on behind her. Duke eventually trailed behind them.

The students were happy to allow them onto the dance floor. More than happy, in fact. They all created a neat pathway towards the middle of the room, giving them plenty of space. Chandler was the first to begin dancing, then Duke, then McNamara. Even while twirling around, she could feel the many pairs of eyes stuck on her. She knew many of those eyes were lustful (the rest of them were jealous).

Generally Chandler welcomed the lustful stares, so long as it meant she was at the center of attention. So long as people admired her in some way, even if that way was for her appearance. But hey, there was a reason why she always put so much effort into her looks every time she left the house. No way was she going to let her efforts go to waste.

Her movements were graceful, despite her brain being drunk off of its ass. Perhaps it was because dancing was a habitual thing. Or maybe she was just that good at it.

She was hardly watching where her feet were carrying her, and was slow to react to hands suddenly on her. She whipped her head around until she locked eyes with someone who she recognized from the football team (though her head was too buzzed up to think of his name). She took one glance at him, and decided he was alright looking. She’d seen better, but he had a good jawline and pretty brown eyes.

“Woah, careful there, honey!” he said, grinning at her. “Nearly bumped into me.”

Heather chuckled. “I think I already did.”

The guy swung her around, in an attempt to dance. Heather let it happen, wanting something to keep her busy while she tried to decide whether or not he was worth her time. She kept her hand on his shoulder, while the other was on his arm, which she noticed was sinking down slowly but her brain was too intoxicated to figure out why,

“Hey, Heather!” She was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of Heather Duke’s voice. Before she could even think about turning around to face her, she already had a hand on her wrist, dragging her away. “Sorry, I need to borrow her real quick,” the shorter girl called back to the jock who they had abandoned.

Heather finally let go of her when they were closer to the edge of the dance floor, finally giving Chandler a chance to shoot her down with a fuming stare.

“The hell, Heather?” she hissed. “I was-”

“Heather, you’re drunk off your ass and he was about to fucking grope you,” she boldly cut her off, glaring back up at her. Chandler crudely scoffed.

“You’re not my bodyguard!” she spat. “Besides, I had everything under control.” She ignored the fact that she had hardly noticed him trying to grab her in places that she hadn’t given him permission to do so. Mostly because it was _Duke_ who had pointed it out.

“You have _nothing_ under control when you’re drunk, Heather,” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “There’s a reason why I’m staying sober right now.”

“Yeah. It’s so that we have a drive home.”

“ _And_ to make sure perverts don’t get their greasy fingers all over you!” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t fucking yell at me for trying to keep you from being assaulted!”

Chandler held her gaze for a while longer, trying to form some sort of sharp retort in her head.

Eventually, she just snorted. “You’re starting to sound like Veronica.”

“ _Good,_ ” she shot back. She then turned her gaze back to the crowd. “Now I gotta make sure Mac isn’t falling for the same trap.” Before barging back into the crowd, she shot her a warning glance. “Don’t even _think_ about jumping back in without me watching.” With that, she slipped back into the crowd and out of sight. Chandler stared after her, still twitching with anger, but stayed put either way. Because she wasn’t angry that Duke had _dared_ to argue with her, she was angry that Duke was _right_.

While waiting for her return, she crossed an arm over her chest, as if it were some sort of shield.

Soon enough, Duke stumbled back out, holding McNamara by the sleeve of her yellow jacket. McNamara had a lopsided grin plastered on her face, along with a red blush smudged on her cheeks. It couldn’t be more obvious that she was drunk.

“Okay, now both of you-” Duke dragged McNamara up to Chandler, standing them next to each other. Stick together from now on.” She glimpsed at the door that lead to hallway outside. “I need to piss real quick, so just hang around somewhere where I can easily find you for the time being.”

Chandler rolled her eyes and shook her head while Heather darted off, out of sight. She then turned to McNamara.

“Wanna go out back?” She tilted her head towards the kitchen, which would lead to the back yard. “It was getting clammy in here anyway.”

McNamara gave a concerned look. “What about Heather?”

“She’ll be _fine_ ,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “She’ll find us eventually.”

The two girls then weaved around the staggering teens, holding onto each other to make sure they didn’t lose each other in the midst of drunken students. The journey from the living room into the kitchen and out into the backyard was a blur, as if her brain was picking up and dropping memories carelessly.

Eventually the pair made it outside. It was only then when Heather found some truth in her words, in that it really _was_ clammy inside. Clammy with hot drunken teenager sweat. The cold night air caressed her face gently, and it was honestly a relief.

“Phew, I really needed some fresh air!” McNamara breathed, leaning on Chandler. “Wanna sit down?”

The blonde pointed towards a free bench, one that was away from a small group of kids gathered around each other, having some sort of hilarious conversation. Chandler nodded, and began leading them over to the bench.

Once they sat down, McNamara slumped over, resting her head on Chandler’s lap and gazing up at her.

“Heather told me some dude tried to grope you,” she said, making a grabbing gesture with her fingers. “You’re okay, right?” She crossed her leg over the other which was firmly set on the bench. The other floated in the air.

Chandler scoffed. “Of course I’m fine! I would’ve slapped him if he went too far.” She rolled her eyes. “Veronica’s rubbing off on both of you, I swear to God.”

McNamara let out a giggle. “She’s here in spirit!” she said. Chandler stifled a laugh.

“For fuck’s sake, she never leaves.”

McNamara continued to laugh like a drunken idiot. Because she _was_ a drunken idiot.

“Not such a bad thing though, is it?” She tilted her head slightly, bouncing her foot up and down in the air. “She’s good company.”

Her head began to think up of hazy thoughts about Veronica, cruelly reminding her of how the girl had felt when pressed up against her, their lips messily sliding across one another-

“You’re _blushing_ -” McNamara snickered, reaching up to lightly tap her on the nose. Something Veronica had done to her before. “You thinking of Veronica?”

Chandler stared down at the girl. “Obviously. You brought her up in conversation.”

McNamara grinned, before sitting back up and turning to face Heather.

“ _You_ brought her up,” she laughed. “You must be really drunk again.”

Chandler raised a brow at her, though a corner of her mouth quirked up. “Again?”

“Y’know,” McNamara brought her hands up to loosely cup her cheeks. “Since last week. At my house.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Chandler chortled at how slow she was being. “Yeah…” she thought back to that night - half of which she’d forgotten.

At least she still remembered Veronica.

“What you thinking about?” McNamara asked again, grinning loosely. Chandler giggled.

“Nothing.” _Veronica._

The blonde didn’t seem to believe her, and shot her a playful smile.

“Veronica?” she guessed. Chandler stared at her.

“Veronica?” she echoed, confused to why she would mention her name (even though she was right).

McNamara laughed. “Yeah. You and Veronica, to be exact.” She swayed back and forth on her seat. “You know when I had to drag you both up the stairs?”

Chandler stared blankly at her. “I don’t remember that, but yeah, you told me.”

“Well.” McNamara stopped swaying. “When I took Veronica upstairs, she had all these-” she gestured to her neck, “-bruises and all.” More laughter tumbled out of her mouth. “And when I asked her about it, she just said, ‘oh, Heather was just really drunk!” her voice lowered in pitch in order to sound more like Veronica. “So I just had to assumed you gave her a load of hickies or somethin’.” She giggled.

Chandler didn’t.

Chandler _froze_.

“She-” Heather struggled to form words in her pissed mind. “She what? She said what?” She lunged out and grabbed McNamara by the shoulders, causing the blonde to widen her eyes.

“Uh- she said-”

“No!” Heather slammed a hand over her mouth, clamping her pink lips shut. “No, no-” Her hand subconsciously slipped off of the girl’s mouth and coiled back so that it would dig its nails into her chin. “She didn’t- I didn’t-”

It was as if her brain had sobered itself up. Heather’s words rang loud and clear, on repeat. They swarmed round and round, making her vision dizzy, until they formed into two words that she’d be unable to ignore.

Heather knows.

Heather _knows_.

Panic struck her like a bullet, dragging her up from her seat and pulling her forward, forcing her to pace in circles.

“Heather?” McNamara asked, all humour in her voice now having disappeared.

Heather hardly heard her. All she could hear was the voice in her head screaming over and over again, _she knows, she knows, Heather_ knows.

A dreadful churning began to form in her gut. Her now shaking hand came to cradle it as she continued to pace around at random, no longer forming any sort of shape as she did so. Her feet didn’t care, only tried to figure out some way out of this situation, _away_ from Heather, but couldn’t find any form of escape that wouldn’t mean leaving the party. So she stopped.

“Are you okay, Heather?” McNamara slowly stood up, taking a step towards her. Chandler stumbled away from her, leaning over slightly to try and sooth the churning in her stomach, along with her shaking limbs. She stabbed her skin with her nails, trying to _order_ her body to stop and to calm down, to stand up tall and face Heather and tell her _I didn’t do that. I didn’t kiss Veronica._

In a weak attempt to do just that, she shuffled around, her movements nervous, and looked at the girl, who was staring at her with concerned eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but words didn’t come out. Something was blocking any sounds from escaping her. An unpleasant feeling that she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

She briefly slapped her hand over her mouth, but was quick to remove it, knowing it was no use. Her throat filled up with disgusting, warm, gross-tasting contents, making Heather hurl. She held her breath, trying to force the liquid back down, but that only seemed to fuel the fire more.

Heather Chandler let out loud gags as a vile mixture of blue and reds spewed out of her mouth and onto the grass.

 

* * *

 

The credits began to roll, after ending the movie with Lady’s owners adopting Tramp, and Lady and the Tramp having puppies of their own. A cute ending, to say the least.

Both Betty and Martha turned to face Veronica.

“What did you think?” Martha asked.

“Did you like it?” Betty questioned. Her two friends leaned forward, awaiting for her answers.

“Yeah!” Veronica nodded. “It was really cute. Way better than Sleeping Beauty.”

Martha gave a shocked gasp, covering her mouth with both of her hands.

“Woah, controversial opinions from Veronica Sawyer!” Betty exclaimed, looking more shocked than she actually was. Veronica scoffed.

“Sleeping Beauty’s overrated!” she argued. “In fact, it’s downright creepy! That dude just kissed some sleeping girl without asking!”

Betty and Martha both glanced at each other, before nodding in agreement.

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” Betty shrugged. “But Maleficent was great.”

“Okay, yeah, she was the _one_ good thing about the movie.”

“And I’d totally bang her.”

Veronica paused to stare at her friend.

“You- _what_?” She attempted to stifle her laughter. Betty glanced at her in confusion, before some sort of realisation hit her.

“ _Oh_ right! I forgot to tell you.” She chuckled. “I’m a lesbian.”

Veronica widened her eyes, surprised. A lot had change about Betty, mostly with her new style of clothing, but she hadn’t expected _that_.

“Really?” She blinked. “Damn, I never knew.”

“Wait, uh-” Betty reached forward to touch her hand. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Veronica locked eyes with her, then shook her head, her gaze as reassuring as she could muster.

“Of course I won’t!” she said, reaching forward to hug her. “That’s a secret between you, me and Martha.” She pulled back to smile at her. Betty returned the gesture with a grateful simper.

“Well, you, Martha, me, and JD.”

Veronica paused to stare at her.

“You- JD? You know JD?”

Betty raised her brows. “ _You_ know JD?”

“Yeah! Well-” Veronica’s mouth twitched. “Somewhat. I’ve spoken to him a few times. Oh, and he gave me a lift here.”

“He did?” Martha asked. She nodded.

“I bumped into him when I was getting snacks and he offered to give me a lift here.” She eyed her cup, which now only had drips of melted red liquid circulating at the bottom.

“Oh, yeah, he does that,” Betty laughed. “So you got to ride his motorbike?”

Veronica nodded.

“It’s super cool, right?” she grinned widely. “Aw, but that’s so cool that you know each other!”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” She peeked over the popcorn bowl, seeing if there was any left. Unfortunately, there wasn’t. “So how do you know each other?”

“Oh! He went to my school for a few months.” She leaned back in her seat. “We were pretty close for a while!”

Veronica was about to ask if by ‘close’ she meant romantically, but she harshly reminded herself that Betty had literally come out a lesbian a few moments before.

“We’ve stayed in touch since. He heard I was coming to Westerburg and gave me a run-down of the place. That’s how I know about the Heathers.”

“Oh, I see.”

“But anyway,” Betty clapped her hands together, glancing to her left and right, at both of her friends. “Since we’re speaking romance movies, how about we talk about romance, eh?”

 _Oh no._ “Sure!” Veronica forced a smile.

“So, Martha.” Betty hooked one leg over the other, folded her arms and turned to the dark skinned girl. “Crushes?”

Martha sheepishly smiled. “Uh… you remember Ram, right?” She pursed her lips. “He’s been around since Kindergarten.”

“Oh, _him_?” Betty arched a brow. “Yeah, I remember him. He became a dick in middle school.”

“Still is,” Veronica added dryly. Martha gave a pout.

“He can be sweet when he wants to!”

“He hasn’t wanted to for about four years, then,” Veronica said. Betty gave a snicker, Martha gave a disgruntled ‘hmph.’

“Is that it then?” Betty questioned. “No one else has caught your eye?”

Martha slowly shook her head.

“What about you, Betty?” Veronica asked, eyeing the girl curiously. “Any b- _girls_ -” she clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip to make the quick save. Betty only laughed at that.

“Well, there was this one girl back in Atkinson High, but I never got her number, and now I’ve left forever.” She ran her finger down her cheek, acting as if it were a tear, and pouted sadly. “Now I’ll never know if she was gay or not.”

Veronica gave her a pitiful look and patted her shoulder.

“Damn… that’s shit,” she said. “Say, how long have you known that you were gay, anyway?”

“Oh, a few years now!” She gazed up at the ceiling above, as if lost in thought. “I was a sophomore. I went on a date with this guy, and he was actually really nice, but,” she shrugged. “I just felt nothing. After thinking about it for a while, I realised I never really fantasized about guys, y’know? Like, holding hands, kissing under the moonlight and all.” She pulled a face, fake gagging. “I just couldn’t do that with a guy.”

Veronica nodded slowly, admiring how nonchalaunt she was about something considered so taboo at Westerburg (as well as plenty of other schools). “Were your parents okay with it?”

“Yeah! Well-” she tilted her head to the side. “My mom needed some convincing at first, but luckily my dad was able to convince her that it was all okay.” She smiled. “Good thing my dad’s a raging bisexual, ready to defend my honour!” She laughed.

Veronica gave a quizzical look.

“Bisexual?” she echoed. “What’s that?”

Betty glanced at her with an amused look. “Oh, it just means you like both.” She held up two fingers as a demonstration. “You can like girls and boys. It isn’t always black and white.”

Veronica’s eyes grew wide as the explanation entered her brain, filling in the gaps that had subconsciously been there. She thought back to the conversation she had with Heather exactly a week before, explaining how she had felt attracted to both guys and girls.

 _“Is that even a thing?”_ she had asked her.

_“Either it is, or I’m very confused.”_

“There’s actually another word for it, but I can’t remember the name!” Betty snapped her fingers a few times in an attempt to conjure up the mysterious name, also breaking Veronica away from her thoughts in the process. “Well, it’s similar, just more of a ‘I don’t care, I like people and I’ll get with them whether they have a dick or not’ kind of thing?” She tapped her chin, still trying to think. “Like, I suppose that’s being bisexual, but also different. Because what my dad told me is that bisexuals may like both genders, either equally so or one more than the other.” Her eyes twitched back and forth, wondering what the word was. “But there’s another label that people will use when they don’t care. I just can’t think of it!”

Veronica was only half listening. This new discovery had slapped in the face _hard_.

“I think it begins with a P?” Betty mused.

“Veronica?” Martha suddenly cut in, tilting her head over to the brunette.  “Are you okay?”

Veronica snapped her head up to face her friend.

“Oh- uh, yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” she stammered.

Betty gave her an odd look. “You look a little spooked. Is everything alright?”

Veronica stared at her hands, which were fidgeting frantically. “I’m… yeah, I’m fine.”

Both Betty and Martha shared a disbelieving glance.

“You can tell us what’s wrong, you know,” Martha said sweetly. Veronica glanced at her, then gave a thankful smile.

“I’m fine, honestly. I just…” She bit her lip. “Something’s been on my mind lately, and I think Betty just gave me the answer.” Those last few words came out sounding close to a whisper. Regardless, Betty and Martha heard loud and clear, and they both gasped in unison.

“Veronica, are you bisexual?” Betty stared at her, expression full of surprise and excitement. Veronica nervously looked at her.

“...Maybe?”

Then, Betty gave Martha a mischievous grin.

“When did you find this out?”

Veronica shrugged. “A week ago, I guess.”

Betty’s grin widened.

“Say, Ronnie…” The blonde shifted closer to her and nudged her arm with her elbow. “You don’t happen to _like_ anyone right now, do you?”

As soon as she said that, her mind flashed back to Heather, and all of the heat within Veronica’s body rushed to her face. Apparently it was noticeable, because both Betty and Martha squealed.

“You do!” Betty gasped.

“You haven’t had a crush in ages!” Martha exclaimed. “Who is it? Do we know them?”

Veronica’s heart sank. _Unfortunately._

“I wouldn’t,” Betty said. “I won’t be at Westerburg until Monday.”

 _Technically you do, if JD told you about the Heathers,_ is what Veronica would have said. But staring at her two excited friends, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to risk dropping the name of the almighty Heather Chandler.

“I…” is all she managed to say.

“You can tell us!” Betty assured her. “We won’t say a word, right, Martha?”

Martha shook her head, drawing an imaginary zipper across her mouth. Veronica bit her lip.

“She… she’d crucify us all in a brutal fashion if I told you,” she murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Regardless, that was enough for Martha to connect the dots. She gaped, her eyes wide.

“ _That’s_ why you’ve been avoiding Heather!” she declared, quite loudly at that. Once realising her volume, she clamped her hands over her mouth and quietly apologised.

“Wait, Heather?” Betty repeated in disbelief. “As in, one of the Heathers?”

Veronica slowly nodded.

“Aww, Veronica!” she squealed, grabbing her hands and squeezing them tight. “That’s so cute!”

“Yeah!” Martha agreed. “I mean, I haven’t had the best experiences with her, but…” She crawled across the couch to drag Veronica into an embrace. “If she makes you happy, then I’m happy too!”

Veronica couldn’t hold back a smile from crawling onto her lips.

“Wow… uh… thanks guys,” she said sheepishly.

“How did you find out you liked her?” Betty then asked, moving closer. Martha pulled away from their hug to look at her as well.

Veronica glanced away from them. She thought about telling them about the past week. How they’d gotten drunk and kissed. How they _sobered up_ and kissed. And how they’d kissed in the back alley of the school, and how it was on her mind constantly. But she knew doing so would also be outing Chandler as… something. She wasn’t sure what she was, but it wasn’t straight. It couldn’t be straight.

She then just shrugged. “Dunno, I just…” She pursed her lips. “I guess I just… _really_ enjoy her company?” Not a complete lie. She really, _really_ did.

 _But why?_ she wondered. _Is it just attraction? Is that all?_

She thought about Heather. She thought about those ginger curls that draped down her face and over her shoulders. Her crystal blue eyes, her slender face and body and her curves, and how _tall_ she was (technically shorter than Veronica, but she rarely appeared that way thanks to her heels).

Heather was pretty. Everyone knew that. _Heather_ knew that. And she’d always known that.

She just wished she knew what had changed.

 

* * *

 

“Oh shit!” Some student from the group on the other side of the garden yelped, watching Heather Chandler gush out all the contents that had been in her stomach. McNamara just stared at her in awe.

“Heather!” she cried, stretching her arms out to grab her shoulders, while also trying to avoid the vomit pouring from her mouth. It seemed like the worst of it was over, but there was still thick, now clear liquid dripping from her lips. McNamara was careful not to step in the big puddle in front of Heather, a messy mixture of blue and red Jell-O, along with the decoration of beer and bile mixed together.

“Oh, God, um-” she turned towards the door that lead back inside, as if she expected Heather Duke to be standing there. “Come on, let’s go find Heather.”

Chandler finally dared to look up at her, her eyes murky. She staggered around the vomit and towards McNamara, and ended up being caught by her sides by the blonde. Heather wrapped one arm around her waist and held the hand that drooped over her shoulder, then half-carried her across the garden and, consequently, past the group that had witnessed the entire thing. She heard them muttering words that Heather couldn’t hear, though she could assume none of them were good.

Too drunk to muster up any threatening glares, McNamara simply ignored them in favour of guiding her friend up the few steps that would lead them back indoors. She tried to give her a reassuring glance, but couldn’t quite catch her eye to do so. After trying for a few moments, she gave up and continued to walk through the kitchen and go on the search for Duke.

Luckily for them, they bumped right into her before they could reach the living room.

“Fucking hell, _there_ you are!” she muttered. “I leave you for one second and-” She stopped mid-sentence when her eyes fell on Chandler. “...What’s up with her?”

“She vomited,” McNamara said, feeling her friend tense at her words. She made subtle strokes on the back of her freckled hand with her thumb. “Can we go back to the car? She’s not feeling well.”

Duke stared at Chandler, bewildered.

“God, _you_ vomited?” she said in disbelief. “I thought your alcohol resistance was way higher than that.”

“Just give us the fucking key, dick,” Chandler snapped through a hoarse voice. Duke let out a quiet sigh, before reaching into her shirt and pulling out her car keys. McNamara thought about questioning where _exactly_ she had put those, since her top definitely didn’t have a pocket in there, but she was too focused on the girl who she was currently holding close to her. Keeping one hand around her waist, McNamara let go of Chandler’s hand to catch Duke’s key in her palm.

“I’ll go steal a bag or something,” Duke said, taking a step away from them. “Just in case she needs to vomit on the ride home.”

Duke then moved past them to get into the kitchen to begin her search, all the while McNamara had to try and force her brain to at least _act_ sober enough to meander through the many teenagers stumbling over one another in the living room. She would occasionally bump into someone, earning her an irritated glare, but soon enough they escaped, and they were out. They both picked up the pace as they left the room, then the front door, down the steps and up the street to Duke’s car.

The two of them flopped onto the back seat like a pair of rag dolls. McNamara leaned over Chandler to close the door, as Chandler hadn’t bothered to do so.

They both slumped back into their seats, Chandler still leaning on McNamara.

“Hey,” McNamara said, turning to her. “Do you feel better?”

Chandler didn’t even look at her, and for a while, didn’t even speak.

“No,” was her eventual reply. McNamara gazed at her sadly, then rested her head on her shoulder. She thought back to what she had said, and realised that there was a reason she hadn’t brought it up when she was sober.

“I’m-” She brought a hand up to lightly caress the girl’s arm. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” She bit her lip. Didn’t mean to what, exactly?

A wave of relief flushed through her when she felt Chandler rest her chin on her head, sinking into her soft blonde locks.

“Why didn’t you say anythin’ sooner?” she croaked.

McNamara bit her lip, shifting closer to her.

“I… I dunno, I wasn’t sure what to say.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know how to walk up to you and ask, ‘hey, you didn’t happen to leave those hickies on Veronica’s neck the other day, did you’?” A light chuckle escaped her. Chandler remained quiet.

“I’m fucking ruined…” she heard her murmur. McNamara could feel the raw emotion in her voice - something that was rare to see these days. She let out a sigh, burying her face into the crook of her neck.

“I won’t tell,” she promised her, her voice becoming quiet. “I’d never do that.”

“And why not?” Chandler said, some form of sad humour appearing in her voice. “You have the ultimate weapon to destroy me.”

McNamara moved away from her to lock eyes with her, for the first time since she had vomited. Her blue eyes were cloudy and filled with an emotion that she thought was alien to Chandler.

_Vulnerability?_

McNamara’s brows knitted and, gently, she cupped her cheeks.

“I don’t want to! If I did, I would’ve announced it to the whole school already!” She gingerly smiled at her. “I’m sorry I mentioned it, tonight. I should have never-”

Her lips were then closed by a finger.

“Just don’t say anything to anyone else, okay?” she held her gaze, her voice growing more firm. “Not to Veronica. Not to Heather - _God-_ ” she shook her head “-especially not to Heather!”

Heather nodded frantically.

“Good.” With that, she slumped back onto her seat, letting herself slide down the back a little. McNamara watched her, twiddling her thumbs together. Then, both of their heads snapped up to see Duke, climbing onto her seat. Oblivious to the conversation that had just occurred, she peered over from her seat and tossed a brown bag at her. Chandler only just caught it before it hit her in the face, and she scowled at her.

“Sorry I took so long,” she muttered. “Ram and Kurt held me up. They wanted me to stay and suck their dick.” Her face twisted into one of disgust. “So I stole one of their glasses.” She revealed a large glass of water that she had been holding in her other hand and handed it to Heather, who blinked at it. When she didn’t respond it, Heather moved it closer to her. Chandler seemed to snap out of her trance when she did that, and took it off of her and took a sip.

“...Thanks,” she murmured. Duke fluttered her lashes at her.

“You’re welcome?” She gave her an uncertain glance, before looking at McNamara. “Keys.”

McNamara tossed her the keys, and soon enough the car started up.

“You better not get drunk at the Remington party, Heather,” Duke warned her, though her tone was friendlier than usual. Chandler gave a tired huff.

“Wouldn’t _dream_ of it,” she muttered. It only took one glimpse at her too see just how drained she looked. Her free hand was draped onto the car seat, looking lifeless. Hesitantly, McNamara’s hand crawled over to hers, gently laying over it like a blanket. She almost flinched away when she felt her tense under her touch, but she soon relaxed, allowing her fingers to slip between hers. McNamara smiled sweetly at her, even though Chandler refused to look at her. She lightly brushed her thumb over hers in some odd attempt to comfort her.

  
_I’d never tell,_ she wanted to say out loud. _Because I know what you’re going through._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just say you're gay, McNamara, no one's judging you
> 
> anyway sorry this was so long lmao i got carried away. it was originally supposed to end on the last chapter but then this happened
> 
> also owo Remington party you say? oh boy, judging by how well they go here on ao3 i'm SURE the next entry will be very lighthearted and angst free!

**Author's Note:**

> rip i had to split this into two because it was so long (60 pages in total)


End file.
